


The Pen is Mightier Than the Sword

by Delusionalllamacrusade



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Awkwardness, Bad Puns, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-23 19:11:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13196697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delusionalllamacrusade/pseuds/Delusionalllamacrusade
Summary: Marinette is in a design slump. Adrien is in a fencing slump. Maybe they can help each other out?





	1. Let's Make a Deal

**Author's Note:**

> My Secret Santa gift for Emzurl on tumblr! I had so much fun making this, I hope you enjoy reading it (n_n)

* * *

“Oh, no,” Marinette groaned as she raced along the streets of Paris.

“Marinette, slow down!” Tikki zoomed alongside her. “You’re going to fall!”

“Hide, Tikki! Can’t slow down, late for school!” Marinette panted. She couldn’t be late again. Between saving Paris and sewing new pieces for her latest design competition, Marinette hadn’t had much time to sleep, and it showed in the school attendance record.

Tikki zoomed into Marinette’s purse just as someone stepped onto the sidewalk in front of her. Her shoulder glanced them and she fell, sending her books flying across the pavement.

“Hey, watch where you’re going!” Marinette scolded, frowning up at the—

“Marinette! I’m so sorry. Are you okay? Man, I’m such a klutz.” Adrien Agreste flashed an apologetic smile and bent down to pick up Marinette’s books.

“Adrien!” Marinette sputtered, “No, I’m the klutz. I mean, I just— I ran into you, you shouldn’t— you don’t need to apologize.”

“Nah, I should’ve been more careful.” Adrien offered Marinette a hand. She accepted it, cheeks burning. “Come on, let’s get to class.”

* * *

 

By the time Marinette and Adrien reached the school, it was twenty minutes after first bell. Adrien had insisted they walk and enjoy the weather, but Marinette was sure he was just worried she’d fall again.

Ms. Bustier looked up from her desk. “Adrien, Marinette. Nice of you to join us,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

The class stared as the pair stood frozen in the doorway. The smug look on Alya’s face only worsened Marinette’s embarrassment.

“Sorry, Ms. Bustier.”

“Would you care to tell the class why you’ve both missed half the lesson?”

Marinette hesitated. She’d spent most of the night battling an akuma, but she couldn’t tell that to Ms. Bustier. She felt Adrien shift uncomfortably next to her.

“I stayed up too late,” they said in unison. Marinette immediately wished she could melt into the floor. Adrien laughed nervously and rubbed the back of his neck.

Ms. Bustier sighed. “You can’t keep being late like this, Marinette. You both have detention. See me after class.”

Marinette nodded and quickly followed Adrien to their desks, eager to have the class’s attention turned away from her. Ms. Bustier continued the lesson as Adrien turned around and mouthed, “Sorry.” Marinette shook her head and gave a small smile, ignoring Alya’s teasing nudge.

* * *

 

Despite Alya’s optimism that detention would be a great way for Marinette to spend time with Adrien, they’d spent the entire time so far sitting in silence. Marinette had decided to use the time to work on her latest piece, a formal skater dress that she planned to enter into one of the biggest design contests of the year - Gabriel Agreste’s youth fashion ball. The top ten contestants were invited to attend an exclusive gala with some of the most famous designers in the world, but with the entry deadline only a few weeks away, Marinette doubted she’d ever get to see it. She’d been trying to perfect the embroidery on the skirt for weeks, but nothing looked right. She was erasing her latest attempt, a row of sparrows flying along the hem, when Adrien appeared at her shoulder.

“Wow, that design is incredible,” he said, making Marinette jump. Her hand slipped and she smudged the design, making the sparrows look more like sad, little ghosts.

“Uh, thanks! I mean, I’ve designed better before, but— I’m glad you like it!” Marinette managed.

“Can I see your other designs?” he asked, already reaching for the notebook.

“Sure,” Marinette automatically replied as Adrien flipped through the book. He paused, looking closely at one of the larger sketches.

“Is that… me?”

Marinette’s eyes widened. She snatched the book back and stared at the drawing on the page. Sure enough, a boy in fencing gear was lunging across the paper, sabre in hand.

“Well,” Marinette stammered, “I was just trying to practice drawing different poses, and I was walking past the gym one day while you were training, and— I mean, I’m not stalking you. I promise. But—“

“My form is awful,” Adrien stared at the page, eyebrows drawn in. “I totally get what Monsieur D’Argencourt was saying.”

Marinette blinked. “What? No, your form is amazing! I just messed up the pose, it’s— it’s really my fault.“

“Thanks, Marinette.” Adrien smiled and shrugged. “But this one’s on me. I’ve been losing tournaments all month. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Well, my drawings aren’t doing so great either.” Marinette sighed. “All my favorite designers are holding competitions this month, and I haven’t won a single one. I’m starting to wonder if I’ll ever get over this slump.”

“Look at us. What a sight,” Adrien joked.

Marinette giggled, then paused, an idea slowly forming in her mind.

“Maybe we can help each other,” she ventured.

“Help each other how?”

“Let’s make a deal,” Marinette started, but before she could continue, Ms. Bustier looked up from the papers she was grading and shot the two a stern look. Adrien returned to his seat, and Marinette once again trained her eyes on her paper. She heard a soft scratching sound coming from Adrien’s desk, and then a small slip of paper appeared at her elbow.

_What kind of deal?_

Marinette glanced up at Adrien, who put a finger to his lips and winked. She wrote back.

_If you win five tournaments by the end of the month, you get free croissants for a year._

Adrien smiled and wrote back. _And if you win five design contests, I’ll convince my father to feature you on his website._

Marinette couldn’t believe it. Her designs, featured on Gabriel Agreste’s website? It was a dream come true. She slipped the paper back to him. _These stakes seem pretty unfair._

 _You’re right_ , he wrote back, _I’m getting a way better deal. If you win five design contests, I’ll get him to give you a spread in the next magazine. Shake on it?_

Marinette’s heart skipped a beat. She smiled as Adrien held out his hand. She reached across her desk and shook it. As she turned her attention back to her design, he slipped one last note onto her desk.

_Come with me._

Marinette looked up, confused, just as the last bell rang. Then Adrien grabbed her hand, and they were off into the sunny streets of Paris.


	2. Inspiration

* * *

Adrien raced down the sidewalk, pulling Marinette close behind as he led her through the winding streets of Paris.

“Where are we going?” she called.

“We’re finding you some inspiration!” he called back, gripping her hand tighter. Her face flushed red, no doubt from all the running. Adrien slowed to a walk, panting. “Inspiration,” he repeated. “We’re gonna find it.”

“Where?”

“Here.” Adrien stopped. They were in front of a flower shop, tucked into the shade of a cozy alleyway.

As they stepped inside, a gust of cool, sweet air washed over them, engulfing Adrien in a wave of familiarity. He hadn’t been here in years, but the smell, the colors, the comfort of the shop hadn’t changed a bit.

“Adrien?” Marinette asked. “Is everything okay?”

Adrien nodded, blinking away the memories. “Yeah. Yeah,” he said. “Come here.”

Marinette followed Adrien through the store to a glass door in the back wall. She stepped inside. He stayed in the doorway, breathing in the familiar scent of roses. A magnificent wedding arch stood against one wall, wreathed in the red flowers. The rest of the room was filled with garlands - dozens of them, all different lengths and arrangements, but each boasting the same delicate braid of red roses.

Adrien watched as Marinette spun slowly in a circle, eyes wide, taking in every petal.

“What do you think?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe.

“It’s beautiful,” she murmured, studying a small garland laced with gold ribbon.

“Good.” Adrien quirked a smile. “I’m glad this situation a-rose.”

Marinette froze. She stared at him.

“Did you just… make a pun?”

“Maybe.” Adrien stared back. “I guess you’ll just have to dill with it.”

Marinette groaned, dragging a hand down her face.

“What?” Adrien asked innocently. “Don’t kale my vibe.”

Marinette covered her face with both hands, refusing to laugh, but Adrien could see her shoulders shaking.

“I don’t be-leaf it. She doesn’t like my jokes,” Adrien gave an exaggerated sigh. “I guess it just wasn’t mint to be.”

Marinette made a sound that sounded a bit like a squeak and buried her face deeper in her palms.

“Come on, they’re not _that_ bad,” Adrien said.

Marinette finally emerged from her hands, face red, and looked at him. “They were awful,” she said, but her eyes were shining. “How did you know this was back here?”

“My mother,” Adrien said, finally moving from the door into the room. “She used to work here, before…” he absently traced a finger across a large rose. “She and my father met here. She used to bring me to work when he was away. This was my favorite room. I wasn’t allowed to touch anything, though,” he said, pulling his hand away from the flower.

“She sounds great,” Marinette said softly.

“She was,” Adrien agreed, and he found himself wanting to be held; to be wrapped in his mother’s arms once more. He could still remember the sweet scent of her hair after a long day of work, and the smudges of dirt that would appear on her cheeks. He remembered the way she’d pull him onto her lap, smile down at him and say—

“Adrikins!” a high-pitched voice squealed. Adrien whirled around and found Chloe standing in the doorway. Marinette nearly dropped the garland she was holding.

“Where have you been?” Chloe whined, “My daddy was supposed to meet your father for tea, and you weren’t there.”

“I don’t just go where my father goes, Chloe.” Adrien laughed uncomfortably. “Marinette and I were just taking a walk.”

Adrien grimaced as Chloe turned her attention to Marinette.

“And you! Distracting Adrien from his _important_ plans. He has responsibilities to attend to, you know. You can’t just go flirting with him whenever you want.”

“Come on, Chloe. Don’t be like that,” Adrien said. “Marinette and I are just friends. It was my idea, anyways.”

“Just friends? Everyone knows Marinette has a—”

“Is there a problem, Chloe?” Marinette finally spoke. “Or are you just upset that we’re hanging out because you have no other friends?”

Chloe’s face turned bright red as she stomped up to Marinette, fuming.

“How dare you! I have lots of friends!”

“Oh, really? I’ve never met them,” Marinette snapped. She stormed past Chloe and out of the room.

Adrien froze, split between the two girls. Then a bell chimed, signaling that Marinette had left the store, and he raced after her.

Adrien sprinted across the street and caught up with Marinette in a matter of steps. “Hey.” He grabbed her arm. “You okay?”

Marinette stopped and turned to face Adrien, eyebrows furrowed. “I’m fine.” She huffed angrily. “Chloe just gets under my skin. It’s like every time something good happens to me, she shows up and—“

_Crash._ Adrien and Marinette spun in unison toward the flower shop. Through the window, Adrien could see Chloe crouching in the corner, trapped in… Was that a giant venus fly trap?

“…And does that,” Marinette finished grimly.

“I gotta go,” Adrien blurted. He turned back to Marinette, only to find that she was already gone. He raced back toward the store.

“Plagg, _claws out!_ ”


	3. Fleuriste

* * *

Ladybug took a deep breath as she leapt back into the flower shop. Chloe or not, there was a civilian in trouble. Toppled flower pots lay broken on the floor, and she could see the remains of the wedding arch strewn across the back room.

“What happened?” Ladybug demanded as Chat Noir ripped away the unnaturally thick flower stems entangling Chloe.

“I was attacked! That lady just went crazy,” she whimpered.

“What lady?” Chat Noir asked. His eyes went wide. “Madame Fecteau? Is she okay?”

He leapt into the back room and began searching the wreckage, calling her name. As he did, a shadow fell over the shop. Ladybug heard a rustling, snapping noise from high above, and Chloe shrieked in terror.

“Uh, Chat…? Is this who you’re looking for?” Towering above the store was an akuma, clutching a watering can atop an enormous vine of roses. Chat Noir looked up, jaw set, as he extended his staff.

“That’s her, alright. You ready, Ladybug?”

“Always.”

“Then let’s do this!”

The akumatized madame Fecteau cackled gleefully. “I am Fleuriste, and I am here to destroy all that you’ve worked for!”

“Chloe, tell me exactly what happened,” Ladybug ordered.

“I just bumped into that thing!” She pointed at the shattered arch on the floor. “It was an accident. I didn’t know it was going to be picked up today!”

“She destroyed my proudest work. Now I will destroy yours!” Fleuriste spread her arms, sending a spray of water from the can across the alleyway. “You two work so hard to protect Paris. What a shame it was all for nothing.” Thick, menacing vines sprouted from the ground, wrapping themselves around a nearby apartment complex. Civilians screamed in terror as the plants squeezed the building, glass spraying as the windows shattered.

“Chat, we have to get those people out!”

“You got it, L.B.!” Chat Noir propelled himself across the alley. He leapt through a broken window and out of sight.

“Looks like it’s just you and me, Fleuriste. Let’s make this fair!” Ladybug hurled her yoyo at the largest vine, wrapping it around the tower of roses. She grabbed the string and pulled, but instead of toppling the akuma, the yoyo unwound and came flying back at her. Ladybug leapt out of the way as Fleuriste sent a spray of water toward her, vines erupting at her feet as Ladybug ran through the alley.

Suddenly, a vine sprouted from the cobblestone in front of her, and Ladybug was snapped up by the twisting, snarling plants. She struggled against its tightening grip as it began to creep over her face. Just before it swallowed her completely, Ladybug caught a glimpse of Chat Noir leaping from the apartment complex, staff in hand. Then the plants engulfed her face, and everything went dark.

_Crack_. Chat Noir’s staff was a blur in front of Ladybug, and then she was free. They stood back to back, yoyo spinning, staff at the ready.

“Looks like a sticky situation a-rose, m’Lady. Need some help?”

“I think the akuma is in her watering can. We need to get her down and get it away from her.”

Chat Noir nodded and launched himself into the air. Ladybug darted around the alley, dodging Fleuriste’s vines left and right. She pressed herself into a corner, just barely avoiding a coiling tendril as Chat Noir sparred with the akuma overhead.

“See if you can dill with _this_!” he cried, leaping at her.

“Chat, no!” Ladybug called, but it was too late. Fleuriste turned her full attention to Chat Noir. As Ladybug watched, he was swatted out of the air, crashing down toward the street. But before he could hit the ground, a vine snapped up and engulfed him, his staff falling to the cobblestones below.

“Uh… Ladybug?” came his muffled voice. “You may not be-leaf this, but… I need a little help.”

Ladybug shook her head and leapt from her hiding spot.

“ _Lucky charm!_ ”

A small bag fell into her hands. Ladybug glanced at the label. Weed killer. She ripped the seal off and hurled a handful of it at the vine holding Chat Noir captive. The vine instantly disintegrated, sending him spiraling onto the street.

“Batter up, Chat!”

Chat Noir scooped up his staff as Ladybug tossed the weedkiller into the air. He swung, and a cloud of white powder sprayed toward Fleuriste’s tower. The roses wilted and died, and she came hurtling down to earth, her watering can skidding to a stop several feet away. She reached for it.

“Chat Noir, stop her!” Ladybug called.

“ _Cataclysm!_ ” A corner of the flower shop crumbled and fell, sending a landslide of rubble between Fleuriste and her watering can. Ladybug scooped it up and broke it over her knee, watching as a small black butterfly fluttered up into the sky.

“No more evildoing for you, little akuma.”

Chat Noir helped madame Fecteau out of the street as Ladybug purified the akuma and repaired the damage from the fight.

“Guess Fleuriste’s reign of terror wasn’t _mint_ to be.” Chat Noir smirked as he rejoined Ladybug on the street.

Ladybug couldn’t hide a smile as she rolled her eyes. “Haven’t you made that pun before?”

Chat Noir clutched his chest in mock-offense. “My lady, a true gentleman never uses the same pun twice.”

A high-pitched beep came from Ladybug’s earrings. She turned to leave.

“Ladybug?” Chat Noir called. She paused. “I had a friend here earlier. Her name is Marinette.”

Ladybug nodded. “I’ll find her. I had a friend, too. His name is Adrien.”

Chat Noir nodded. “I’ll find him.”

Her earrings beeped again.

“Ladybug?” Chat Noir smiled. “Pound it.”


	4. En Garde!

* * *

“Ready to win a deal?”

Adrien lifted his fencing mask and turned around. Marinette was there, smiling and holding a small cardboard box. He grinned.

“Hey, I thought I wasn’t supposed to get free croissants until I won.”

“They’re not croissants.” Marinette opened the box to reveal four small macarons. Adrien reached for one, mouth watering. “And you don’t get to have one until you win,” she teased, pulling them out of his reach.

“Aw, come on!” Adrien moaned, “You didn’t just come in here to gloat, did you?”

“I wanted to wish you luck,” Marinette smiled at him for a moment, eyes bright. Then she covered her cheeks and turned away. She must have been cold. Adrien grabbed a jacket from his locker and held it out.

“Here, take my jacket.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh, no— no thanks, Adrien. I mean, I wouldn’t want to lose it or—“

“Really, I don’t need it,” Adrien said. Ignoring her protests, he draped it across her shoulders. She stared up at him.

“Thanks. Uh, good luck! We’re rooting for you.”

“Thanks, Marinette. It means a lot that— Wait. Who’s ‘we’?”

“Good luck! Make us proud!” Marinette called, already halfway out the door. Adrien blinked and pulled his gloves on as he followed monsieur D’Argencourt out of the locker room and into the glaring lights of the gymnasium.

Adrien’s ears were immediately assaulted by the constant clanging of foils as his teammates fenced on various strips around the gym. He took his place at the end of the piste and took a deep breath as he saluted his opponent.

“En garde!” the referee barked.

Adrien pulled his mask down and settled into the stance, rocking back and forth to secure his footing.

“Ready?”

Adrien nodded. His opponent did the same.

“Fence!”

Adrien sprang forward. His opponent lunged, and there was a flash of metal as Adrien felt a sharp rap on his ear. The light on his opponent’s side of the box lit up green. Adrien’s ear was still ringing slightly as he returned to the end of the strip and secured his mask once again. He jumped up and down, exhaling through the metal netting.

“En garde!” the referee repeated.

Adrien and his opponent took the stance.

“Ready? Fence!”

A rapid beat of the blade, a flash of metal, and a new bruise on Adrien’s shoulder. His opponent’s light lit up green once again. Adrien rubbed the spot as he returned to his starting position.

_Gotta pull it together_ , he thought. _Dad’s counting on me. Marinette’s watching._

Adrien shook his head, trying to clear it. Then he heard someone call his name. He looked up. There in the stands, standing on the bleachers and cheering, were Marinette, Nino, and Alya.

“You go, Adrien!”

“Yeah, knock ‘em dead, buddy!”

“You can do it!”

Adrien shook out his arms and slid into en garde, feeling his mind clear. He steadied his breathing and studied his opponent. He was a bigger guy, confident, and he seemed to be all attack. He absently bent his blade as he settled into position.

“Ready?”

Adrien nodded, muscles tightening.

“Fence!”

Again, Adrien sprang forward. Again, his opponent lunged, but this time Adrien retreated, beating his opponent’s blade out of line. He advanced, parrying every cut his opponent made. Adrien lunged, extending his arm past his opponent’s sabre and landing a solid touch on his chest.

The box lit up bright green as Adrien’s friends erupted into cheers. He pulled off his helmet, cheeks warm, and smiled up at them. Marinette held up the box of macarons and laughed, and Adrien couldn’t help the warm feeling in his chest as he returned to the strip for another match.

It went on all day, Adrien winning matches and his friends encouraging him from the stands. Every time he began to lose steam, they’d start cheering again and Marinette would remind him of the pastries at stake. Eventually, the crowd began to trickle out, and Alya and Nino bade the others goodnight. Marinette stayed the whole time, match after match, smiling as Adrien won time after time.

Finally, the last match had been won, the awards ceremony was over, and Adrien had been crowned the victor. He breathed a sigh of satisfaction as he rested his forehead against the cool metal of his locker. He’d won. He’d beaten the losing streak. He shut his eyes and let the relief wash over him like a wave. Then he heaved his gear over his shoulder and went to find Marinette.

Finding Marinette didn’t turn out to be very difficult, as she hadn’t moved since the tournament had ended. Adrien found her dozing on the bleachers, macarons still in hand. He smiled and brushed a lock of stray hair off her forehead.

“Hey. Marinette.”

Marinette’s eyes fluttered open, blinking in the florescent lights. She yawned, and her eyes fell on the gold medal hanging around Adrien’s neck.

“Adrien? You won,” she muttered sleepily.

“Ouch, don’t sound so surprised,” he joked. “Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

Marinette seemed startled, but she let him help her up and lead her outside into the cool Parisian night.


	5. More Than Anything Else in the World

* * *

The sleepy fog cleared from Marinette’s head as she stepped out into the cool night air. She took a breath in, inhaling the scents of Paris after dark.

She and Adrien walked together, eating macarons and talking. Marinette realized with a start that she’d never had a real conversation with Adrien before. It was… nice. He was sweet. And funny. And even though his puns were really awful, he told them so confidently that she had to laugh. He reminded her of Chat Noir, in a way.

The thought struck her like lighting. It was crazy. Chat Noir was just a friend, and he could never find out who she truly was. Could never truly know her. But tonight, laughing with Adrien Agreste, she wondered what it would be like to have no secrets. To know who Chat Noir really was, to be friends. Real friends.

Then they were in front of Marinette’s bakery, and Adrien turned to face her.

“I want to thank you,” he said, suddenly serious.

“What for?”

“I guess you kind of saved me.” Adrien laughed softly and rubbed the back of his neck. “My dad… If I kept losing tournaments, he was going to make me homeschool again.”

He looked at Marinette, and she was suddenly aware of how open he was being. He wasn’t trying to cover anything. He didn’t pretend to be someone he wasn’t. He was Adrien Agreste, and right now, he was being completely honest with Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

“I can’t go back to homeschooling now, you know? Not when I’ve made all these great friends. Not when Paris needs…” he faltered. “When Paris needs more of my dad’s designs,” he finished.

Marinette tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “We all want you to stay, Adrien. You’re part of our class now. We’d miss you.” _I’d miss you._

Adrien smiled, his eyes shining in the glow of the streetlights. For a moment, neither of them said a word. He cleared his throat.

“I guess I should get going. Don’t want to be late for school again,” he said.

“Yeah, we can’t have you missing any more practices,” Marinette giggled.

“Can’t keep you up too late, either,” he agreed. “Got to finish those designs.”

Marinette’s heart sank. She’d finished her dress, but she still needed a men’s piece to enter Gabriel Agreste’s youth fashion ball. Without a matching set, she’d be disqualified. 

“Right,” she finally said. “I’ll… see you at school.”

After bidding Adrien goodnight, Marinette climbed up to her room and out onto the balcony. She leaned against the railing, listening to the sounds of the city. Music blasted from a club a few streets over. A group of alley cats were having a fight down below. Nearby, a young couple was laughing, walking together down the street. Marinette sighed. Moments before, she had been a part of a young couple, talking and laughing in the moonlight. But they weren’t a couple, not really. Adrien was a good friend, but that was all he was. A friend.

Marinette jumped as a soft thud sounded behind her. Chat Noir was there, crouching beside the railing. He straightened and smiled sheepishly.

“Sorry, Marinette. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I wasn’t scared,” Marinette said.

“Okay.” He joined her at the railing and they stood together in silence. He glanced at her. “What’s wrong, Princess? Cat got your tongue?”

“Hey now, kitty. Curiosity killed the cat, remember?”

“I can detransform right now if you want—“

“No!” Marinette yelped and covered her eyes, and Chat Noir suddenly went quiet. Slowly, she uncovered her eyes and turned back to him. There he was, mask and all, silently trying to hide his laughter. She elbowed him, hard.

“Ow!”

“Don’t do that again,” she ordered, cheeks red.

“Fine, fine,” he conceded, rubbing his ribs. “Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

Marinette sighed. “Chat Noir, have you ever felt… stuck? Just stuck, in the same situation for forever, and you don’t know when you’ll ever get out?”

“Believe me, Princess. Until this year, that was my entire life.”

“How did you get out?”

“Well, the superhero thing helps.” Char Noir grinned. “You could try that.”

Marinette smiled, her face warming against the crisp night air. Secret identity or not, Chat Noir was a good friend to her. He deserved some honesty. She twined her fingers together and leaned against the railing, staring down at the street below.

“There’s this boy. His name is Adrien Agreste, and he’s—“ Marinette faltered.

“He’s what?” Chat Noir prompted, “Is he bothering you?”

“No, he’s not. He’s…” Marinette took a breath. “His father is holding a design contest,” she finished decisively.

“I think I’ve heard of that,” Chat said, “There’s some big ball or something, right?”

“Yeah, a gala for the top ten designers. Not that I’ll be one of them if I can’t think of a good design.”

Chat Noir hopped up onto the railing.  He paced back and forth, deep in thought.

“Hey, be careful!“

“Cats always land on their feet, remember? I’ll be fine.” He stopped, balancing precariously on the corner of the rail. “Sounds like you need some inspiration. Lucky for you, your cat about town is here to help. So, tell me. What do you love, Marinette? More than anything else in the world?”

Marinette paused. What did she love? She loved being Ladybug, but Chat Noir couldn’t know that. She loved Adrien, but she didn’t really know him. Not the way she wanted to. She loved her parents, and Alya, and the smell of bread baking in the morning. She loved the way Alix and Kim always fought but never meant it. She loved the way the tourists wandered the city, so in love, and the music that played from clubs and cafes all over Paris.

“I love Paris,” she said softly, “More than anything else in the world.”

Chat Noir snapped his fingers. “Then I have an idea. Come with me,” he said, pivoting on the thin rail. His foot slipped and he toppled forward, arms flailing. Marinette dove forward and grabbed his tail, leaving him hanging over the rail, nearly parallel to the ground below. She couldn’t help but giggle as she pulled him back onto the balcony.

“Whoa there, kitty. I don’t have superpowers like you, remember? Where are we going?”

“We’re going to Paris.” Chat Noir smirked. “Only better.” He pulled his staff from his belt and wrapped an arm around Marinette’s waist. He flashed her a smile, and then Marinette’s stomach lurched as they took off into the sky.


	6. A Girl from Paris

* * *

Chat Noir was worried the constant rise and fall of his staff would make Marinette sick, but as they flew through the air, Marinette’s enjoyment only seemed to increase. She let out an exhilarated whoop as they sailed over the rooftops, pulse beating fast against Chat Noir’s grip. He smiled and launched them up over Le Grand Paris hotel.

By the time they came to a stop at the top of the Eiffel Tower, Chat Noir had never felt so alive. Marinette laughed breathlessly as he set her down next to the railing.

“Welcome… to Paris!” he shouted, breathing hard. Each word billowed up in a small cloud, freezing in the chilly night air. Marinette grasped the rail and looked out over the glittering city below, her eyes hungrily taking in every detail. Chat Noir watched as her smile slowly faded into a soft expression of wonder, the reflection of the city lights shining in her eyes. He caught himself smiling. He’d never seen this side of Marinette before. She was a free spirit, so alive and unguarded. She almost reminded him of Ladybug - fearless, clever, and caring. Someone he could never grow tired of.

Chat Noir felt his face heat up and looked away, fixing his gaze on the warm glow of the Louvre. He’d never know Ladybug, but standing atop the Eiffel Tower with Marinette, he wondered if being with her would be anything like this.

“Chat.” He forced himself back to attention. Marinette placed a hand on his arm, and suddenly the night didn’t seem quite so cold anymore. “Thank you.”

Chat Noir slapped on his trademark smile. “Hey, all I did was kidnap you.”

Marinette’s eyes softened. “If I don’t get into this competition… I might never get a chance at my dream again. I’ve spent weeks trying to come up with a new design, and I totally forgot who I was. Standing up here, you feel so small. But… in a good way. Like if you mess up, it’s okay.”

Chat Noir’s heart seemed to beat faster for no reason. “So who are you, Marinette?”

The wind blew through Marinette’s hair as she stared out over the city. “I’m a girl from Paris, who…” She paused. Her face lit up. “Who has an idea! I need to get home!”

“Whatever you say, my— uh, Princess!” Chat Noir wrapped an arm around Marinette’s waist, and they were off over the rooftops of Paris.


	7. Just a Friend

* * *

Alya watched as Marinette tapped her fingers nervously against her knee and checked her phone for the eighth time that hour. It had been weeks since Marinette’s mysterious burst of inspiration, and she still hadn’t heard from the Agreste gala.

“What if I don’t get in?” Marinette panicked, “Then I’ll lose the deal I made with Adrien and I’ll never get a spread in Gabriel Agreste’s magazine, and then I’ll never be a designer and achieve my dream!” Marinette groaned. “I should just give up now.”

“Girl, calm down.” Alya handed her a bottle of water. “You’ll get in. Go Adrien!” she called as Adrien prepared for a match on the strip below. “They probably haven’t even chosen the top ten yet.”

“I guess you’re right. If they had, I’d know about it— you can do it, Adrien!— right?”

“Right. Yes!” Alya stood up and cheered as Adrien landed a touch on his opponent.

Marinette plopped her chin down on her hands. On the strip, Adrien took off his helmet and waved, smiling up at them. Marinette waved back. Alya glanced sideways at her, a smug grin on her face.

“Looks like you and Adrien are pretty friendly,” she teased. Marinette blushed.

“It’s not like that, Alya. Adrien is just a friend. I mean sure, he’s a dreamy, perfect friend who— but we’re just friends!” Marinette stammered.

“Just friends who never miss a fencing match and visit flower shops together after school?”

“That was one time, and we got attacked by an akuma. Super romantic,” Marinette muttered.

“Girl, you’ve been to every tournament this month. That’s devotion.”

“We have a deal. This is the last tournament of the season. If he wins today, he gets free food.”

“And if you win the Agreste competition?”

“Then all my dreams come true,” Marinette sighed. “I’m so close. I only need to win one more contest.”

_Ding._ Marinette’s phone lit up. Alya leaned over to look as Marinette dove for the phone, reading and rereading the single line of text scrolling across the screen. She looked up at Alya, mouth agape.

“I got in,” she murmured. “I got in!” she squealed and launched herself at Alya, embracing her in an excited hug. “I’m invited to Gabriel Agreste’s ball!”

“I knew you could do it, girl!”

“Marinette?” They turned. Adrien was there, his fencing mask tucked under one arm. “You’re going to my father’s gala?”

Marinette nodded.

“That’s great! I, uh…” Adrien rubbed the back of his neck and laughed nervously. “I was gonna ask if you wanted to go with me.”

Marinette froze. Adrien grimaced, his cheeks flushed.

“I didn’t mean—! I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I mean, if you don’t want to go, that’s fine, just— You need a model, right?”

Marinette looked like she was about to melt into the floor. The poor boy needed some help. Alya linked arms with Marinette. “That’s a great idea, Adrien! Marinette and I were just talking about how she needs someone to show off her men’s design. Right, Marinette?”

“We- we were…? Ow, hey! I mean, we were!” Marinette giggled uncomfortably.

“Great,” Adrien said, “So… I’ll see you there!” He turned to leave, then paused. “Oh, and Marinette? I hope you have a lot of croissants“—Adrien grinned—“because I just won the tournament.”

Adrien hurried off to change, leaving Alya to pester Marinette all she wanted.

“Just friends,” Alya said wistfully.

“I needed a model!” Marinette argued.

“He was blushing—“

“He was flushed from fencing—“

“He was _blushing!_ ”

Marinette slouched in her seat and crossed her arms, ears red.

“You’re going on a date,” Alya muttered.

Marinette sat up hopefully. “You think so?”


	8. The Gala

* * *

Adrien checked his watch and helped himself to another glass of water. The gala was in full swing - young contestants and their models talked and showed off their work around the ballroom, waiters and waitresses offered drinks and h’orderves to expensively-clothed designers, his father drifted through the crowd, commenting on each piece - and Marinette was nowhere to be found. Adrien slipped into a coat closet.

“Where is she?” he muttered as Plagg emerged from the pocket of a woman’s coat.

“She probably forgot to come,” Plagg said helpfully. “How come I have to hide in here at this fancy party?”

“It’s a gala, Plagg, and I don’t have a jacket for you to hide in. Marinette’s supposed to bring one. This is too important for her to miss. What if she got lost? Or attacked by an akuma?”

“Then we can leave this party and find some camembert.”

Adrien could have kept arguing with Plagg for hours, but then he heard a familiar voice over the music of the string quartet. Cracking open the door, he peeked out and saw Marinette at the door, talking to a butler who was insisting she give up her purse. She didn’t seem inclined to part with it, but eventually she gave in and handed it to the butler, who turned toward the closet. Adrien threw the door open and hurried out, quickly straightening his tie. Marinette seemed surprised to see him emerging from the closet, and stifled a giggle as he approached.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hi.” As Marinette stepped into the light, Adrien got his first good look at her. She was holding a black suit jacket, and her hair had been let down to brush her shoulders, framing her face perfectly. The chandelier above glittered gold in her blue eyes. She was wearing the dress she’d been working on in detention - a black, knee-length dress with a red belt. But instead of a line of birds, like Adrien had seen, a delicate chain of red and gold roses were embroidered around the bottom of the skirt. She looked… incredible.

“You look… incredible,” he said.

“You don’t look so bad yourself.” She smiled and held out the jacket. “Sorry I was late. Here’s the jacket.”

Adrien took the jacket and put it on. It seemed like a regular jacket; well-made, but nothing too special. Marinette must have seen the puzzled look on his face, because she leaned in and said, “You’re going to have to wait until runway to see the rest.”

Adrien wasn’t sure what ‘the rest’ meant, or how he could be wearing only part of a jacket, but he shrugged and led Marinette inside to join the party.

They spent an hour or so socializing, Marinette excitedly introducing herself to all her favorite designers, Adrien helping her navigate the ballroom. Finally they stopped for a drink, and Adrien had a chance to talk to Marinette alone.

“Really”— he handed her a glass—“if you don’t win tonight, I’m going to be surprised.”

Marinette absently twisted her hair around her finger. “I’m glad you think so,” she said. “This contest means everything to me.”

Adrien took a sip of water. “So, uh…” He racked his brain for the kind of questions a designer would ask. “Where did you get your inspiration?”

“Well, the embroidery is from the flower shop you took me to. And the jacket you’re wearing was inspired by…” Marinette hesitated. “A friend of mine. He helped me.”

A friend? Adrien glanced down at the plain black suit. “Must not have been a very inspiring guy.” Marinette stiffened. “Sorry! Uh, I mean— sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you or anything,” Adrien amended.

Marinette laughed. “I get it. It’s nothing special right now. You just have to wait until it hits the runway,” she repeated.

Adrien nodded and took another drink. Now that he had the chance to talk to Marinette, he wasn’t sure what to say. He looked to the center of the ballroom as the quartet began another piece. He held out his hand and grinned.

“Dance with me.”

Marinette glanced at the other guests. “No one is dancing.”

“Then we’ll be the first.” Adrien took Marinette’s hand and led her into the center of the floor.

“I don’t know how to dance. I barely know how to walk,” she whispered.

“I’ll teach you.” Adrien gently placed his hand on her waist. People began to stare, but he ignored them as he led Marinette through the steps of the waltz. She giggled as he twirled her around the floor, just barely avoiding the other guests. For a moment, it was perfect - the dance, Marinette’s laughter, the startled gasps of the other guests as they waltzed past. Then the music abruptly stopped, and a microphone screeched to life as his father took the stage.

“We will now begin the display portion of the evening. All designers and models, please report to the runway immediately.”


	9. A Boy from Paris

* * *

Marinette tried to steady her rapid pulse as she fidgeted with the hem of her skirt. She tried distracting herself by straightening Adrien’s suit jacket, but her shaking hands only made her anxiety worse. Adrien took her by the shoulders and forced her to stand still.

“Hey,” he said softly, “You can do this. You’ve already done all the work. Now all you have to do is let everyone see how incredible it is.”

Marinette forced herself to take a deep breath. He was right. There was nothing she could do now. The stage manager hurried up to them.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng? You’re on.”

Marinette nodded. Adrien offered her his arm and she took it as they stepped onto the stage.

Cameras flashed and lights danced as Marinette and Adrien walked arm-in-arm down the runway. With every step, her confidence grew. As they reached the end of the catwalk, she could hear the confused murmurs of the crowd as they examined her men’s design. It was now or never. Marinette pulled a tiny remote out of the pocket of her dress and clicked a button.

The crowd gasped as hundreds of tiny LEDs lit up from inside Adrien’s jacket. They glittered heavily at the bottom and scattered up toward the collar, creating the illusion of a starlit sky hanging above a shimmering cityscape. Adrien turned around, and as they walked down the runway, Marinette clicked another button. The lights on the back of the coat shimmered into the shape of the Eiffel Tower, arching gracefully across Adrien’s back. Out of the corner of her eye, Marinette saw Gabriel Agreste give an approving nod.

As they stepped out of the spotlight and returned backstage, Marinette let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. Adrien examined the jacket with an incredulous grin.

“That was amazing! Did you see their faces? They loved it! How did you think of that?”

Marinette laughed with relief. “I told you. A friend of mine helped me.”

Adrien proudly straightened his collar. “Pretty cool friend.”

“Yeah, he likes to think so,” Marinette said. She sighed in satisfaction. It was over. She’d done everything she could. Now all she had to do was wait for the winner to be announced.

_Boom._

The sound resonated through the floor. The lights above flickered, then went out. Confused murmurs arose from the designers milling around backstage. Marinette turned to Adrien. His face looked ghostly in the pale light of the suit jacket as he frowned and took a step toward the ballroom.

_Crash!_

“Gabiel Agreste,” a sinister voice purred, “where are you?”

Terrified screams echoed from the ballroom. Marinette and Adrien raced inside. In the pale light of the moon, Marinette could just make out an akuma floating high above the crowd, a giant sewing needle whipping menacingly through the air next to him. She clicked off the lights on Adrien’s coat and pulled him behind an overturned table.

“Stay here,” she ordered, pressing the remote into his hand. Then she stood and pressed herself into a hallway, out of view of the other guests. “Tikki,” she whispered, “spots on!” Marinette waited, but nothing happened.

“Shoot,” she muttered, remembering her purse. She ran back to the ballroom and made a beeline for the coat closet.

“Gabriel Agreste,” the akuma was saying, “it looks like I made it to your little party after all, didn’t I? Seamster is here to collect his prize!”

Marinette was so close. Only a few more steps and she’d be able to transform.

_Crunch._

Marinette looked down. Under her feet were the remains of a smashed wine glass. Seamster turned.

“Hello, little girl. Are you a designer, too? What a shame. That place on the runway should have been mine!”

The akuma made a jabbing motion with his arm. The giant sewing needle mimicked his movement, flashing through the air. Marinette looked up just as an enormous crystal chandelier came crashing down toward her. She leapt out of the way, rolling sideways and landing on one knee. She glanced toward the closet. The door was jammed shut by the wreckage of the chandelier. Guess she’d have to win this fight without Ladybug, then.

“Everyone okay?” a familiar voice sounded from the opposite side of the room.

“Chat Noir?” Marinette squinted into the darkness, unable to make out his familiar figure, except a flash of blond hair as he darted through a patch of moonlight.

“Ladybug!” he called, “The akuma has a sewing needle!”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed!” she called back. She heard a _whoosh_ and dodged out of the way, just barely avoiding the needle as it flew past her ear.

“No,” Chat Noir insisted, “a small needle. I think that’s where the akuma is!”

Marinette glanced up at the boy floating high above. Sure enough, she could just make out the glint of a small needle in his hand. She leapt behind a fallen spotlight and crouched there, taking stock of the room. Chat Noir seemed to be keeping Seamster occupied. Marinette could hear Chat’s concentrated growl and the whoosh of the needle as it jabbed at him time and time again. He must have been relying solely on hearing, and Marinette figured he wouldn’t last much longer unless they could beat this akuma. She looked up at him and saw the glint of the large needle as it circled back up to hover next to its master.

Seamster clicked his tongue in disappointment. “None of this would be necessary if you’d just surrender your Miraculous, young heroes,” he said. “Surrender yourself to me, and I’ll leave these innocent citizens alone.” As he said it, he sent his sewing needle shooting toward a group of guests crouching in a corner. The needle flashed, and the next instant, the guests were bound to a pillar, tied head to toe in ribbon. It hovered menacingly above their heads, ready to strike at any moment.

“No luck, Seamster!” Marinette called up to him. “Chat Noir, I have an idea, but I need a distraction!”

“Come out, Gabriel Agreste, and see what _designs_ I have for you!” Seamster roared.

“Hey!” Chat Noir yelled up at him, “Puns are my thing!”

“Chat Noir, _now_ ,” Marinette ordered.

“Hey!” another voice yelled, and Marinette turned to see a flash of light moving quickly toward the center of the ballroom. The light glittered, then formed the shape of the Eiffel Tower. “You want an Agreste? Come and get him!”

“Adrien, no!” Marinette cried as the needle came streaking toward him. She launched herself up over the spotlight and dove toward Adrien, but she was too late. There was a horrific tearing sound, and the needle slashed through the jacket, pinning it to the wall. It stuck there as the light on the jacket sparked and went out. Marinette went numb. She couldn’t save Adrien Agreste. She’d failed. The world around her turned to a dull hum as she fell to her knees, the image of the light fading on the jacket glowing behind her eyes.

“Ladybug!” Someone was calling her. Someone was yelling her name. “Ladybug!” It was Chat Noir. He sounded far away. “Ladybug, _now!_ ”

Marinette slowly pulled herself out of her stupor. The needle was still stuck in the wall, but it was slowly pulling itself free.

“Ladybug, go!”

She leapt up and grabbed the needle just as it yanked itself out of the wall, flashing back up toward Seamster. Marinette pulled herself up and crouched atop the needle, and just as it raced past Seamster’s head, she launched herself in his direction. Her body collided with his, and they went crashing down toward the floor. Marinette rolled several feet, landing in a crouch as Seamster pulled himself up off the floor. It was dark here. Marinette would have to rely on her other senses to fight. She felt the air move behind her and leapt into the air, flipping over the needle as it pounded into the earth where she was standing moments before.

Seamster let out a grunt and fell to the ground. Marinette guessed Chat Noir had landed a hit on him. The needle freed itself once again, speeding toward Marinette. She danced out of the way as Chat Noir and Seamster sparred behind her.

“Ladybug!” Chat called, “The needle! The little one!”

Marinette turned, the large needle just barely missing her as she crawled on the ground, searching for the akumatized one. There. A glint in the moonlight. She dove for it and smashed it under her foot, watching as the small black butterfly fluttered up toward the window.

Oh, no. Thinking fast, Marinette scooped up an empty wine glass and slammed it onto the floor, trapping the akuma inside. Seamster fell to his knees, defeated.

“Pound it,” Chat Noir gasped, breathing hard. Marinette laughed, relieved, but just as quickly as the victory came, it was replaced with dread. Marinette’s stomach dropped, and she rushed over to the crumbling pillar, frantically searching the ground for any sign of Adrien. Her hand brushed a piece of fabric, and she clutched at the coat. It was empty.

“Adrien,” she breathed. She felt Chat Noir come up behind her.

“Where’s Adrien?” Each breath came faster than the last. Marinette turned to where Seamster was kneeling on the floor. “What did you do to him?” she demanded.

Chat Noir placed a hand on her shoulder. “Ladybug, he doesn’t know anything.”

Marinette turned back to Chat. “This is his fault! Adrien is gone, and it’s his—“ she faltered, a sob rising in her throat.

“I- I’m sure he’s fine,” Chat Noir said. “He’s… probably closer than you think.”

“Chat Noir—“

“Ladybug—“

Suddenly, the power came back on. Marinette blinked, her eyes adjusting to the sudden light, and found herself looking up into familiar green eyes. Her heart stopped. Chat Noir’s hand remained on her shoulder, except… It wasn’t Chat Noir’s hand. Adrien Agreste was standing next to her. His eyes widened.

“Ladybug…”

“Chat?” Marinette whispered.

Adrien opened his mouth, then closed it. Marinette froze, mouth agape.

“Looks like the cat’s got your tongue,” he joked weakly.

That shook Marinette out of her daze. In a flash, she punched Adrien in the shoulder. He winced and forced a laugh.

“Yeah, okay. I guess I deserved that.”

“You’re _Chat Noir?_ You… you got stabbed! Why did you do that?!”

“I didn’t get stabbed! I just… almost got stabbed.”

“I… I can’t believe you! That was the stupidest- the smartest— ugh!” Marinette buried her face in her hands.

The young designer kneeling on the floor coughed and looked around, confused. “Where am I?”

Adrien cleared his throat and leaned toward Marinette to whisper, “We should probably get out of here.” He nodded toward the wall, where groups of guests were beginning to emerge from their hiding places.

Marinette nodded and scooped up the akuma. Working together, Adrien and Marinette cleared enough rubble to squeeze into the coat closet. Marinette quickly transformed and purified the akuma, sending a swarm of ladybugs to repair the damage their fight had caused. She sighed and slumped against the wall, muscles aching, as Tikki zoomed out of her earrings.

“Chat Noir.” 

Marinette muttered it under her breath, and she was still surprised to see Adrien look up and ask, “Yes?”

She shook her head in disbelief. Marinette suddenly felt that she didn’t know Adrien at all, and at the same time, that she could finally understand him completely. It was too much.

“Adrien,” she said quietly, “who are you?”

He laughed softly and took a step closer to her. “Just a boy from Paris”—he gently took her hands—“who has an idea.”

And then his lips pressed softly against hers, warm and comforting, and all the confusion cleared from Marinette’s head. She knew who he was. He was Adrien - sweet, and kind, and caring. But he was also Chat Noir - funny, and charismatic, and brave. He was both of them, and he was kissing Marinette.

He pulled away and laughed breathlessly, resting his forehead against hers, his breath warm against her cheek. “Who are you, Marinette?”

Marinette smiled.

“Just a girl from Paris,” she murmured, “who’s in love with a boy from Paris.”


End file.
